


You Can Always Hear Me

by Deannie



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1997-10-02
Updated: 1997-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 12:22:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deannie/pseuds/Deannie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After he loses everything, Jim Ellison finds out that all isn't lost at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can Always Hear Me

Simon watched his friend as he sat, numb, on the sofa. Jim Ellison was given to fits of hot anger and icy, brooding silences... Not this. Not this soft, warm numbness. The captain would like to have thought that it was simply Jim's injuries that were forcing the silence, but he knew it was so much more than that.

"He moved too fast, Simon."

Banks looked up again at Jim's quiet words. The detective's voice held too much pain for his friend to answer.

"He always did." Jim took another pull on his beer, sighing loudly. "It was like... Like he wanted to pack everything into every minute of his life."

"And he did, Jim," Simon said gently. "That kid did more in his lifetime than  _I_  have."

In his lifetime.  _In his_ short _lifetime,_  Jim thought sadly.  _A life that would have been longer if he hadn't hooked up with me._

"Damnit, Simon... I just don't get it."

"You're not supposed to, Jim. There's nothing you could have done."

Jim rose, pacing to the long, french doors of his now-empty second bedroom and back again. "I could have told him not to come."

"And he would have shown up anyway." Simon rose as well, dropping a hand onto his detective's shoulder. "Jim, this was just a case of Sandburg being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"He was in the wrong place because of me, Simon."

"He was there because he wanted to be, Jim. You've known the kid for three years. Has he ever done anything he didn't want to?"

Jim shook his head ruefully. Simon was right about that. Blair Sandburg had been the kind to simply guilt and grace himself into any situation he wanted to be in. From the jungles of Africa to the streets of Cascade, Sandburg had been a natural shadow. Fading into place, so seemlessly sometimes that you never noticed he was there until you really needed him.

 _Like I need you now, Chief,_  he thought sadly.

His captain was fingering the envelope Jim had given him when he'd walked in. Jim could tell Simon didn't want to open it; didn't want to see Jim's decision in print. "You can't change my mind about it, Simon," he said, turning quietly. "I wouldn't be any good to you now, anyway."

"You were a good detective long before you met Sandburg, Jim," Simon told him, grasping his friend's arm to emphasize his point. "That hasn't changed."

"But maybe  _I_  have."

"Jim, please... Sandburg wouldn't have wanted you to just give it all up."

Jim headed for the kitchen, and another bottle of beer. He could feel the alcohol wearing away at an already battered body, but he didn't want to stop. If he stopped, Blair's absence would be too real. Right now, it was just a beer-dulled pain, not a sense-searing anger.

"I didn't give it up, Simon," he stated simply. "It's been taken from me."

"What do you mean?"

The detective sighed. "It's all gone, Simon. Sight, hearing... I let him die, and it all got taken away from me." He looked into his friend's eyes, and Simon almost gasped at the intensity of self-loathing there. "I broke some rule..."

"Jim, you remember what happened when Danny died--"

"It's different," Jim broke in coldly. "It's not a case of flashing on and off, or losing everything, or having it all go crazy... I'm just me again. Not the Sentinel, not the guy who can see a dime across a football field."  _Not a Blessed Protector who can keep his Guide out of danger._  "Just me."

"And you're still a detective, Jim," Simon pushed. He couldn't let Ellison do this. He remembered the surprising meeting he'd had with Sandburg when the kid had finally gotten out of the hospital after being dosed with Golden.

 

> "I don't know, Simon," Blair had said, a hand forever pulling through that curly mane of his. "I just... He just looked at me when I woke up, and it was like he'd suddenly gotten his life back."
> 
> "You mean a lot to him, Sandburg," Simon had said simply. "He really took this whole thing hard."
> 
> "Yeah, Simon, but--" Blair had broken off, staring out the window for a moment while he gathered his thoughts. "What if something happened to me? Do you think he'd leave the force?"
> 
> Simon had thought about it for a long time, knowing that it was important to the kid to know the truth. "He might, Sandburg. I mean, according to him, you're the only thing keeping these senses of his under control."
> 
> "That's not true, Simon. He should know that by now." Blair turned back, a hint of anger in his eyes. "He couldn't quit just because I wasn't there anymore, Simon. He was... He's _meant_  to protect, you know? He was  _born_  to do that. I'm not going to have that on my karma if he chucks it all out of some sort of guilt."

 

Simon felt the words coming from his mouth before he realized it. "You were born to protect, Jim."

Ellison whirled on him, angry now. At least that was something--something of the old Jim Ellison. "How  _dare_  you--"

"He talked to me about this once," Simon cut in. "He said you were born to protect, and he didn't want you throwing it all away out of guilt."

"Well he's not here to tell me that, is he!" Ellison screamed. "He's not here because  _I_  couldn't get to him in time!" The beer bottle flew across the room, shattering so loudly that Jim was momentarily deafened, tears springing to his eyes as the Sentinel senses he'd thought had fled suddenly flared to life. "He's not here because I'm not the  _fucking_  Superman he thought I was!"

Simon watched painfully as his friend slid down, kneeling numbly on the floor, hands to his ears. God. Three years ago, Simon had never thought to see his best detective reduced to this. He'd never thought to see Jim fall apart... leave the force... leave his life like this.

Sandburg's funeral had been Sunday, and Simon had watched quietly as Jim had escorted Naomi Sandburg to her car. The ex-Ranger had stood ramrod straight, arm sitting stiffly in its sling, eyes forward, for the entire cermony, but, as he took Naomi's hand and led her to the car, he'd been gentle and kind...

And absolutely destroyed.

* * *

Simon had thought it would get better. He'd thought, after a suitable time of mourning, that Jim would recover. He'd done it before. Even with Jack, when they hadn't known whether he was alive or dead, Jim had moved on. Sure, it had changed him--he was even more of a loner than he had been before... But he'd carried on.

"Because the job is more important," Simon whispered gently.

Jim looked up in pain as his captain threw those words back at him. Twice now. Twice Simon had thrown Jim's past in his face. He fought the urge to rise up and strike him, knowing it would do no good.

"I really just want to be alone right now, Simon," Jim finally managed, his voice breaking as he fought the tears.

"I can't do that, Jim."

Ellison was on his feet in a second. "What?!" His hands balled into fists, and his anger grew as Simon stood his ground. "Get out!" the detective growled dangerously.

"I won't," Simon returned, implacable. "I promised."

"Who? Who did you promise!"

"Blair."

The word spun Jim's mind back in time--back to that night two weeks ago, when he'd finally failed the test of the Blessed Protector.

 

> "SANDBURG!!"
> 
> He ran, barely registering his own actions as his gun fired again and again into Jismon's body. He didn't even look to aim--didn't feel the pain as a bullet slammed through his arm, stopping his forward progress briefly. Every ounce of his energy was focused painfully on his partner's bloody form.
> 
> Even as he fell to his knees beside him, Jim could hear Blair's heart failing. Like an ache growing in his own chest, he saw the bullet that was going to end his Guide's life.
> 
> "Hang on, Sandburg... Come on, Buddy, hang on... SIMON! Where the hell is that ambulance! ...Come on, Chief, please... Don't do this, man... Come on..."
> 
> Another voice had broken through his litany then, and Jim's eyes had jerked away from the fatal wound, locking onto his partner's.
> 
> "Jim... Don't leave..." Blair had whispered, his voice thick with blood and pain.
> 
> "I won't, Buddy... I'm right here... I'm right here..."
> 
> And now, in memory, Jim remembered the words he hadn't heard, words that Sandburg had directed at another person...
> 
> "Simon... Don't let him... leave..."

 

Jim snapped back to the present, painful sobs suddenly wracking his body as he sank back down.

"Don't leave..." It was a promise Jim had made to his dying Guide--before he'd even known what it really meant. And he'd decided, long ago, that any promise made to Blair was one that had to be kept.

"I don't think I can do this, Simon," he whispered finally. "I can't..."

"You can, Jim," Simon assured him, an arm wrapped in comfort across the sobbing man's shoulders. "You have to."

Jim collapsed further, dropping all the way to the floor as he curled up in pain.

"I have to," he agreed. "But I don't know  _how..._ "

* * *

Jim had finally dropped into a fitful sleep, and Simon sat in the chair across from the couch, watching the detective's eyes as they darted back and forth beneath their lids.

He'd never thought that Sandburg would ever die on the job. The kid was... unstoppable. He never let it faze him, never let himself get jaded or bitter. He'd been the perfect complement to Jim, bringing the sullen detective out of his shell, letting him remember what real life was like.

Simon sighed, rising for another cup of coffee, wondering whether Jim would remember, come morning, the promise he had made to his Guide.

 

> The jungle pressed against him now, as he tried to find his way in the darkness. He remembered what it was like to see through the gloom, remembered the liberation of eyes that didn't beg for a flashlight when the sun went down.
> 
> That was all gone now. He hunted carefully through the blackness, snagging his feet on roots and fallen vines, trying in vain to find the path. He stopped, breathing heavily as he realised that, once again, he was going to fail.
> 
> And then, in the loud silence of the jungle night, he heard the voice.
> 
> "Just relax, Jim... Just concentrate on the sight. Forget about what you hear, or what you feel... Just focus on your eyes, man."
> 
> "Sandburg?"
> 
> "Come on, man," his Guide continued. "Remember the tests... remember the techniques... You can do this."
> 
> "I can't," Jim called desperately into the darkness. "Not without you."
> 
> "I'm right here, Jim..."
> 
> "I can't find you!"
> 
> He felt a hand on his arm, and turned to see his Guide, alive and well, standing beside him.
> 
> "Because you're not looking, Jim," Blair said quietly. "I'm always here."
> 
> "No... I--I failed. I failed, and now you're gone."
> 
> Blair shook his head solemnly, though a flicker of amusement shone in his eyes. "Never happened, Big Guy... I'm always here. If you listen... You can always hear me."
> 
> Jim listened. He didn't hear the heartbeat, he couldn't hear a breath...
> 
> But if he listened very closely... He could hear his partner's words.
> 
> "You were born to protect, Jim. The panther said that this required your soul. He was right--and it also required  _mine--_ "

 

Jim sprang up in the predawn light, rubbing at eyes that had loosed more tears during the night. Simon sprawled snoring in the chair across the room, and Jim focused in on the sound, sliding deeper and deeper, until he could clearly hear his captain's heartbeat.

Silently, he crept to the window, standing quietly as he looked out at the city. He found a window--one he'd found a thousand times before--and zeroed in, taking in the small hotel room, where tonight, an old man was sleeping quietly in his bed. He watched for minutes, and slowly felt himself begin to zone.

And there was no one to stop it now, he remembered painfully. No one to stop him from closing off the rest of the world to focus on this one tiny hotel room in Cascade.

Until he heard the voice.

"Hey Jim... Come on, man. You're zoning... Come on, man, focus on my voice, okay?"

Quiet, gentle, it called him back, and he found himself standing in his loft, alone--the only sounds those of his own heart and his captain's...

And the soft, ghostly laughter of his Guide...

* * *

_The End_


End file.
